Creative Copy Challenge #85

Today’s words come to us from Lisa Barone of Outspoken Media. Show her some love.

BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words. (If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)

  1. Quixotic – impulsive; Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals
  2. Leap
  3. Freckle
  4. Vapid – Lacking liveliness, animation, or interest; dull
  5. facetious – characterized by levity of attitude and love of joking
  6. Misfire 
  7. bedazzle – To dazzle so completely as to make blind
  8. Skulk – To lie in hiding, as out of cowardice or bad conscience; To evade work
  9. Coo – To talk fondly or amorously in murmurs
  10. Autumn

NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)

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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there

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41 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #85”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    He meant it as a facetious joke, but Mike’s reaction to it caused Jim’s freckles to leap from his face in regret. “That was a stupendous misfire,” Jim’s subconscious sarcastically cood.

    Jim had a quixotic urge to make people laugh. “Skulk the frowns away,” he’d say. Normally he bedazzled vapid looks from even the most cranky of souls. But, today was no such day.

    When Jim said, “He looks like a cancer patient,” as he browsed the bald mannequin in the magazine, and Mike replied, “Funny. I have cancer,” Jim’s face fell to the floor like autumn leaves racing to their deaths below.

    • margaret says:

      imaginative faux pas. Good write, Shane

      • Shane Arthur says:

        @Ma: Thanks. I actually created that story from one of my own true stories. In middle school German class we had a sub. Nice lady. She told us to make sentences from pictures she held up. She held up a picture of a mannequin and I say, “Er hat Krebs,” which translates to “He has cancer.” I always tried to make people laugh, so I thought that would be funny. She said, “Hmm. You know, I have cancer, too, and removed her wig. I never forgot that moment. I felt like a bug in need of smashing and I remembered her when my sister and grandmother died of cancer. Some lessons are better taught with fire.

    • Patsi Sota says:

      Being called on his comment was a real jaw dropper. Always entertaining Shane!

  2. margaret says:

    It was a leap of faith for this freckle faced country girl to move away from her small, backwoods home town. She felt a Quixotic urge to do something special with her life…..something she knew was impossible in this place.  They just didn’t get her. Because she was pretty they saw her as just another vapid Barbie and failed to recognize her intelligence and potential.

     She was tired of the morons that constantly skulked  around hoping she would pay attention to them. Most of these hicks didn’t even have the common sense or intelligence to know her remarks to them were facetious when she would coo veiled  rejections their way. The thought that she could ever find love and happiness here was a total misfire.

    Today was a new day. Although she would miss the bedazzling   display of autumn foliage against sherbet sunsets the exhilaration of life’s new chapters  filled her with endorphin fueled promises.

  3. Cathy Miller says:

    @Shane-uh, that’s a strange definition of misfire – I smell something rotten 🙂

  4. I am not being facetious when I coo that a quixotic urge has caused me to no longer skulk on through these comments.  Hopefully my attempt will leap off the page and bedazzle the reader, though a vapid misfire is just as likely.  If I should fail in the attempt on this cool Autumn morn, I shall bury freckle dappled face in my hands while I weep.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Steve: Ohh, I think people will like you here, Steve. Nice 1st submission.
      Everone welcome Steve to the bedazzlement that is the CCC.
      I’ll add your name and URL to the CCC Community Links page now.

      • Cathy Miller says:

        @Steve@Lifestyle Design-Welcome to CCC!

        We’re so glad you moved beyond the fringe and gave into your quixotic urge to render your 1st submission. It wasn’t so bad a leap, now was it? Here you’ll find the unreachable is reachable and in a freckle of time your vapid take on what you write soars to unexpected heights.

        I’m not being facetious. Just ask all who live within the CCC community. Your misfire becomes an explosion of creativity as you go where the challenging 10 take you. You will surely bedazzle and be bedazzled as you return time after time. No need to ever skulk again. You’ll hear the sweet sound of acceptance as soothing as the soft coo of a morning dove on a bright autumn day.

        Welcome to CCC!
         

    • Patsi Sota says:

      Welcome Steve. That was great.

  5. Patsi Sota says:

    It was autumn, normally my favorite season, but I did notice. I stared into the fire and watched the flames leap with their own life. The embers look like maggots devouring the wood log. Something was happening here. The sparks hissed at me. A voice cooed to me that it was time. My room was ready.
    I once had a choice to enter Heaven. I was afforded a glimpse. It seemed to me to be vapid and boring.  St. Peter had a freckle right on the tip of his nose. He must have felt my disappointment. I chose not to enter. As I was leaving he called to me and asked if I wanted to have a glimpse at Hell. He would afford me the choice of choosing. I assumed he was being facetious but he assured me he was sincere.
    Lucifer met me at the door. He bedazzled me with gems that had a brilliant fire of their own, deep within. He assured me there were many more and I could have them whether I chose to come back or not. I thanked him and walked around. The ground was covered in gold and silver. Every corner I turned I found a precious gem, a beautiful woman, or food that pleased me euphorically. Hell? Really?
    I became quixotic. I wanted it all. I planned to take all I could with me, never to return. I dropped a golden coin. Ironically enough a picture of the Pope was emblazoned on the coin. That caught my attention. This wasn’t a world of gold and silver. It was a place of misfire and disease. I gagged at the filth covering my hands. It crawled, the dirt actually crawled. Dreadful beings ran here and there trying to escape hooved and horned beasts. It was tortureously hot, steamy. The woman who was with me was not a woman. She was a monster whose breath smelled of carrion. She walked semi-upright on clawed, webbed feet. Her tongue was serpent like and her eyes pure black, no iris, no pupil, just black.
    I glanced around for Lucifer but he had skulked away like the sneak and liar that he is. I demanded to go home and was told I could but this would be my home as soon as my room was ready.

  6. Cathy Miller says:

    Death & the Detective Series
    =====================
    Brett retrieved the newspaper from the bushes in front of his beach bungalow, cussing another errant toss by the paper boy.

    “Kid better forget any dreams of pitching in the majors,” he grumbled.

    Removing the rubber band from the ever-shrinking paper, Brett laid it on the counter by the brewing coffee. He glanced over at the headline as he poured his first cup of coffee.

    BEACH TOWN IS MECCA FOR SERIAL MURDERERS

    Brett cussed for the second time that morning as he scanned the story under the sensationalized headline. They made him out to be some damn, quixotic avenger of victims as they ran through a list of his solved murders.

    Tossing the paper aside, Brett walked to the shower. Maybe he could drown the asinine piece from his mind. He should have known that wouldn’t last long. Walking towards his desk, several cops held up the morning’s paper.

    “Detective, can I have you autograph?”

    “I’m sure you’ll have this solved by the end of shift, don’t you worry.”

    “Suck my…,” his voice trailed off as he saw the lady shrink leaning against his desk.

    “Good morning, Detective,” the sexy voice seemed to leap under his skin with its own fluttering pulse. His gaze latched on the lone freckle that kissed her upper lip.

    “Doc. You slumming?” he responded, trying for a vapid delivery.

    “I wondered if you would have time to talk some time today.”

    “What about?”

    “I’d rather discuss it in my office,” Maggie said in her controlled, psychiatrist voice, as she looked at her Blackberry calendar. “Would 2:00 work?”

    “Schedule all your time in there, Doc,” came the facetious reply.

    Raising her annoyed green gaze, Maggie clipped, “Will 2:00 work, Detective?”

    “I’ll have to check my calendar. You know, the paper kind.”

    “Fine,” Maggie snapped, “You do that and call my secretary.”

    There were hoots of laughter as Maggie stormed back to her office. Why did she always misfire with Detective Connors? He thought he could bedazzle her with his electric, blue stare and very male attitude. Problem was – he could.  Well, she would not skulk around him, feeding his massive ego, and offering the soft coo of affection he was probably used to from women.

    Reaching her office, Maggie took a deep, soothing breath to pull on the professional cloak she wore so well – with everyone but the Detective. Under control, she walked through the door.

    “Any messages, Autumn?”

    And the doctor was in.

  7. Aaron Pogue says:

    Previously, on The Girl Who Stayed the Same
    It’s been months — actual months — since the last installment in this series, so before I leap back in mid-chapter, perhaps a brief refresher is in order?
     
    Our story started with the cowboy minding his own business in a West Virginia bar when the quixotic Stranger arrived — black-haired Jonas, who looked like a rockstar and spoke like the Sphinx. The cowboy admitted he’d made some mistakes in his day, and the stranger admitted the same, and moments later his worst mistake walked into the bar.
     
    Leaving the Prologue, Book One started ten years earlier with the lovely Kelly Lane enjoying an early-autumn stroll through the park when she spotted the same stranger mid-skulk. Mistaking him for a pedophile, she played the part of hero, and lured him away from the helpless children.
     
    As they walked and talked, she had to struggle to adjust to his strange style — sometimes facetious, sometimes poignant, and sometimes seemingly vapid…but in the next breath he always managed to bedazzle her.
     
    Despite the early misfire, their relationship built to a roaring thunder, and at the same time he introduced her to connections who vaulted her half-hobby/half-serious photography into a critical success and a major phenomenon.
     
    Riding high on her victories, she slipped away with him to Paris for a week, ostensibly to shoot photos for a new exhibit, but they both enjoyed the chance to coo a little and spend time counting her freckles. It was a nice break from the frantic pace of her newfound success — but then reality came crashing in.
     
    She learned that her brother had been involved in a horrible accident, and spiraled into self-recrimination that she hadn’t been there, hadn’t even been available to contact until three days after the accident. She blamed Jonas for it, too — for dragging her out of her comfortable little life — and sometime between the plane ride home, and their arrival at the hospital, it was over.
     
    Book Two started six weeks later, with Kelly nowhere in sight. Her brother, Jesse, emerged from his coma to find the stranger sitting by his bed, though. The two got off to a rocky start — one that left Jesse wondering if Jonas was even real — but a chance encounter with another of Jonas’s connections and then a revealing conversation over a game of chess were enough to convince Jesse that Jonas was more than a mere hallucination.
     
    How much more, he’s not yet certain….

  8. Stacia says:

    Ah, late updates here ~~ -__-”
    __________
     

    Deep Oceans
     
    Summer came and went. The autumn sale collection for this year has arrived in a flash. Unfortunately, there’s nothing out there that can cover the freckles on her face.
     
    Over the break, she, too, grew quiet. Every single day, she kept writing on quixotic endings to the story of her life, planning every age of her chapters, obsessed about the smallest stuff.
     
    She used to glide, and now she skulks. Watching her from afar, everybody was cooing over how she eventually became this way.
     
    Yes, she was once one of those popular girl in school. Boys bedazzled by her nonsensical jokes, her quirky speech. Also pretty much just the way she looks – au natural.
     
    Then again her facetious nature has always caused a certain misfire deep within her. She can never understand why humor has its own conflicts – does it hide whatever that is real, or does it exist only to impress the people around her? Is she really the way she says she is? Oh, what is wrong with me! She exclaims by the thought of it.
     
    Over the summer she spent days at a far-off beach called the Deep Oceans. There she imprisoned herself with solitary moments, tanning under the sun, getting away from the city.
     
    Her fair skin was burning under the scorching sun.
     
    Those hours lying under her own back and wearing hideous sunglasses got her the time to put out her thoughts onto words.
     
    It’s funny how solitude takes a turn on her behaviors. How can she not notice? All she sees were dead sea turtles and the vapid ocean from an oil spill not so long ago.
     
    Of course, behind those smokey eyeshadow and dark sunglasses, she couldn’t see a pink dolphin leaping towards the setting sun.
     
    Whenever she recalls the ocean, she sees no horizon. It’s sad to leave things this open-ended.

  9. Stacia says:

    Ah, late updates here ~~ -__-”
    __________
     

    Deep Oceans
     
    Summer came and went. In a flash, the autumn sale collection for this year has arrived. Unfortunately, there’s nothing out there that can cover the freckles on her face.
     
    Over the break, she, too, grew quiet. Every single day, she kept writing on quixotic endings to the story of her life, planning every age of her chapters, obsessed about the smallest stuff.
     
    She used to glide, and now she skulks. Watching her from afar, everybody was cooing over how she eventually became this way.
     
    Yes, she was once one of those popular girls in school. Boys bedazzled by her nonsensical jokes, her quirky speech. Also pretty much just the way she looks – au natural.
     
    Then again her facetious nature has always caused a certain misfire deep within her. She can never understand why humor has its own conflicts – does it hide whatever is real, or does it exist only to impress the people around her? Is she really the way she says she is? Oh, what is wrong with me! She exclaims by the thought of it.
     
    Over the summer she spent days at a far-off beach called the Deep Oceans. There she imprisoned herself with solitary moments, tanning under the sun, getting away from the city.
     
    Her fair skin was burning under the scorching sun.
     
    Those hours lying under her own back and wearing hideous sunglasses got her the time to put out her thoughts onto words.
     
    It’s funny how solitude takes a turn on her behaviors. How can she not notice? All she sees were dead sea turtles and the vapid ocean from an oil spill not so long ago.
     
    Of course, behind those smokey eyeshadow and dark sunglasses, she couldn’t see a pink dolphin leaping toward the setting sun.
     
    Whenever she recalls the ocean, she sees no horizon. It’s sad to leave things this open-ended.

  10. Vapid,” I said, ” neural misfire.” I was not being facetious. Though her beauty could bedazzle, Autumn Freckle was guilty of no observable leaps of intellect.

    “Her intelligence is subtle,” countered Jeanie, Autumn’s roommate. “It skulks. If you coo at it it sometimes comes out.”

    “Sorry Jeanie,” I said, “I’m as Quixotic as anyone, but there’s no way I can teach her Quantum Mechanics in an hour. Here’s your money back.”

  11. Kelly says:

    PRAYER BEFORE YOU GROW
    Up!
    Leap into the next adventure, while
    Autumn’s air speeds your pulse
    Listen to the cooing murmurs of the leaves
    “Hours, minutes, precious seconds, child—
    Enjoy yours while ours end”
    No move you make can be a misfire now
    Shoot back time; though others see you as facetious in your pursuits
    It’s serious business
    Let the freckles on your shoulders wink wickedly at the world
    One more time. It’s not quixotic
    to dive for another day of tank tops
    and flip flops
    While all around, scarves are scavenged
    From the darkest corners of closets
    And grownups knit their brows as if to guard their vapid glances against the wind.
    Time enough to skulk about when the fairy dust is long gone
    from your silly piggy-toes
    Time enough
    When you know the foolish things the grownups know.
    Bedazzle them with bold giggles; make ‘em open those guarded eyes; jump up! and scream and tumble and
    embrace the cold.

  12. Hey look I am back!
    Avenged in Blood Part 42
     An hour later we were at her place. She was rapidly packing a suitcase. I was vapid, just trying to skulk until it was time to leave. But in the end, I wax quixotic and leap to the assistance of fair damsel in need.
    I went to help Lola finish her packing. We needed to be gone, like now. I found her in the bedroom of her modest apartment. The facetious comment on my lips misfired when I saw how she was dressed. Or undressed was more like it.
    “I was wondering when you would get in here.” She cooed at me. I wasn’t sure how in the space of about 3 hours, she had gone from trying to kill me to trying, and succeeding, to bedazzle me.
    “What is this?” I asked somewhat breathlessly as I stepped into the room. “Shut your mouth and come here.” She said seductively. I totally forgot about the danger waiting for us in the autumn night. She was just so….perfect for me, at least for now. There was this one freckle….


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